A/N: A warning from the start—I take great liberties with this story. Very AU, with book and musical components as well as some alterations to various characters. Eventually will be a crossover with…well, you'll see. :) Enjoy!
"She's dead," the midwife said disgustedly, coming out of Melena's room. "And if there truly is an Unknown God," she continued, looking pointedly at Frex, "the thing she spawned will follow suit." With that she left, leaving a shocked Frex and his weeping daughter without any further explanation.
After a moment, Frex entered the room. In less then a moment, he was out again.
"Is she--?" asked the girl hesitantly.
He nodded.
"And the…the baby?"
He shook his head sadly. "Tragically flawed…I should have foreseen this. I should have known…" he trailed off, already lost in one of his infinite ponderings.
"What's the matter with her?"
He blinked, slightly irritated at the interruption. "Don't worry yourself about it. Get some sleep. There will be much to deal with tomorrow."
The girl fought back a resurgence of tears. "But what of the baby?" she insisted weakly.
"Do not question me. Get to bed." With that, Frex walked outside, leaving his eldest daughter standing alone, lost.
She felt cold and wrapped her arms around herself, but that didn't cause her trembling to abate. There was silence now—no more agonized screams from her mother or futile words of comfort from the midwife. The silence seemed interminable to the child—then, suddenly, it was broken by a baby's cry.
The cry was not insistent, but rather tentative, as if the newborn was questioning whether anyone was available to tend to it. The girl hesitated, part of her concerned about her father's anger should she go into the birthing room. Nevertheless, her stomach lurched at the thought that no one was keeping vigil over her dead mother…and, to a lesser extent, at the knowledge that no one was or quite possibly would care for the new baby.
Thus, with some trepidation, the girl opened the door and stepped inside. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimly moonlit room.
She saw Melena first. The midwife hadn't bothered to cover the dead woman's face with the sheet, and her daughter approached, choking back a sob. Her mother looked peaceful, her features free of the anxiety and frustration that they so often exhibited, emotions resulting from the taxing life that Frex in his religious zealousness had forced onto his wife and daughter. With sudden clarity, the girl realized that her mother was now free from the life she so often seemed to loathe.
The same could not be said for the new life in the room, which reminded the girl of its presence with another soft cry. Taking a deep breath, the girl turned to the basket sitting at her mother's bedside. Unlike Frex, she knew she could not hate the baby for her mother's death, anymore than she could hate her mother for achieving the freedom for which she herself sometimes longed.
The girl knelt down and peered at her tiny sibling. She frowned slightly, unsure of what ghastly deformity had so disturbed the midwife. The child looked normal enough—well-formed and average-sized—and it blinked at her inquisitively, seeming very aware and intelligent for one so unaccustomed to the world.
Not until she held it to the light of the moon did Nessarose realize that, beneath the grime of blood and birth fluid the midwife had failed to towel off before fleeing, the child was green.